Another Tomorrow
by That Buggy Girl
Summary: Post-Beast Wars. After the Maximals leave Earth, Waspinator, left all alone, learns that it's easy to pick up the pieces. However, he also discovers that it's not always so simple to put those pieces back together again. Rated for violence. COMPLETE.
1. Part 1

**Notes:** This fic started out with my comment that "It would be cool to write something post-series where Waspinator tries to reassemble Inferno and Quickstrike, but I don't think I could do it." Well, clearly I did, because here it is.

Clearly, it ignores Beast Machines canon.

Parts are short, but there are a lot of them :) It starts out small and slow; bear with me.

-

It had been nice, at first.

He wasn't being slagged every day. No one was calling him an idiot or a moron or any of the other less-than-pleasant things he'd been called in the past. There were no Maximals to worry about; no fighting, no missions, no war. There was nothing to worry about and nothing, really, to do.

It _had_ been nice. At first.

Now it was just boring.

Waspinator was not the type to think or plan ahead. When he had declared himself happy -finally- he had been thinking of only that moment when there was nothing to destroy or harm him, not considering the future -- A future that didn't include any of his friends and teammates, or even any other Cybertronian life forms. He hadn't considered how lonely he would be or how bored, just that he wouldn't be getting blown to pieces on a daily basis any more.

He had been glad for that at first, but the more days that passed, the more lonely and bored he became. It was easier to exist like this, but it wasn't _right._

When he looked out over the bleak landscape, surveying the village composed of scraggly huts and brushy plants, and the protohumans struggling to survive, Waspinator knew that he didn't belong there in that peaceful world. He wasn't meant to be happy and whole and alone…It simply wasn't his lot in life.

So there was only one thing left to do.

It was time to pick up the pieces.


	2. Part 2

He had put Inferno back together before.

In the past, however, it had been easier because he hadn't had to wrestle parts of the ant away from the fleshy things. Waspinator already had a large collection of miscellaneous pieces and limbs, but a few key parts were still in the protohumans' possession.

His head was easy enough to retrieve, after a brief game of keep-away which left the two children howling with laughter and Waspinator flustered and frustrated beyond belief. It seemed that they hadn't been too interested in keeping it -they'd discovered their own ways to make drums- but didn't want to just _give_ it to him, either.

They weren't, however, too keen on giving up his thruster, which they'd been using for the source of their cooking fire. The ant could have been functional without it; flight wasn't necessary to his existence. But Waspinator had been without his wings before and knew how maddening it could be to be grounded.

They had tried their hardest to keep him from taking it, brandishing sharpened rocks and pointy sticks and other things the slaggin' Maximals had taught them to construct. Unlike the rest of the Predacons, Waspinator knew not to take them lightly. He'd been dismantled by the little female, after all.

In the end, Waspinator gave them Inferno's flamethrower in exchange for the thruster, figuring they could just bargain to get it back later. The firearm was large; too large for them to wield properly. It was likely that they would get bored with it when they realized they couldn't even lift it…Or else Inferno would just threaten them until they gave it up. Either way, Waspinator was confident they would get it back eventually.

Waspinator had always understood Inferno better, even though the ant's fanaticism puzzled him at times. His own beast mode was that of a social insect, after all, and he wasn't nearly as compliant as Inferno. They had worked together for a long time though, being sent out first as a threesome with Terrorsaur, then as a duo after the pteranodon's unfortunate demise. Fate and Megatron had thrown them together and the wasp opted to repair his partner before attempting to piece Quickstrike back together.

He had put himself together enough times to believe that he could fix Inferno, even though the ant was completely destroyed. Reassembling him wouldn't be a problem, no. There was potential for difficulties to arise if there were damages Waspinator couldn't repair without the aid of a CR tank or -worse yet- a medic.

It wasn't until he had all of the parts together that Waspinator realized what a big task he had given himself. Inferno was in pieces and some of those pieces appeared to be severely damaged. It would take a miracle to get Inferno back online, but fortunately Waspinator had somewhat good luck in the repair department.

The thought flitted through his processor more than once that it was too late; that Inferno's spark had already departed this world. He shoved the morbid thought aside, looking down at the pile of scrap that had once been an unstoppable, fanatical giant fire ant.

It was time to get to work.


	3. Part 3

**Notes: **Big thanks to storytellers, Starfire201 and Lucy Sumeragui for the kind reviews! :3

-

It was going to take a long time to repair Inferno.

Waspinator knew unaided repairs could take extended amounts of time. He'd repaired himself often enough to know this better than any one. It didn't help that he only had a limited amount of resources at his disposal and hardly any tools. Though he kept a few spare parts on his person at all times, they were hardly enough to fully repair the extensive damage the ant had sustained.

But it didn't matter how hard it would be, or time consuming, or stressful. If he couldn't do it, Waspinator would be alone forever and he was pretty certain that would make him crazier than he already was. He didn't _need_ others around, but he was social and liked spending time with other bots, especially ones that would indulge his fondness for cards and bright, shiny things. He might not have appeared to be very good at many things, but he liked to have a good time and that was hard to do when he was alone.

He started simply, working to sort out the parts and determine where each of them connected together. Some pieces were still missing and would have to be tracked down, but that could wait until later…Right now, he had to work with what he had. Inferno's frame was bigger than his own, and some systems were more complicated, but they had the same basic structure.

Working from the bottom up proved to be effective; the stabilizing servo connected to the ankle joint; the ankle joint connected to the leg support…How many times had he repaired his own appendages? It was too numerous to count at that point and structural repairs were a breeze.

It was the internal repairs that worried him. Any idiot could solder or tighten or hammer out dents. But wiring and internal systems and small components…

Waspinator usually let the CR tank take care of that for him.

As it was, progress was slow in coming. There was no point in hurrying; this was very precise work and Waspinator had all the time in the world.

Inferno's head was going to be the last attached last, once everything else was reassembled. Waspinator had set it carefully on a rock, safely out of harm's way. In some morbid way, it kept him from being lonely. He talked to it sometimes, ranting about the lack of equipment or pondering over where a missing part was. Sometimes, he told the head he hoped Inferno would appreciate all the work he was putting into this, though he severely doubted it would happen. He knew talking to a disembodied head was likely to get him classified as insane, but he didn't care. He needed something to talk to and Inferno's darkened optics only served to remind him what he was working for.

One evening, as a storm raged outside the cave and Waspinator worked diligently to reattach a crucial fuel conduit in Inferno's leg, the wasp's clumsy fingers slipped and he severed a bundle of wires he'd painstakingly reconnected the day before. Though the light inside the cave was limited to whatever a makeshift lamp could provide and Waspinator had been working without pause for the past two days, the insect didn't consider these things to be the cause of his mistake, and instead laid blame on himself, flinging the pliers he'd been using as an outlet for his frustration.

They hit the cave wall with a dull thud, landing on the packed earth floor beside Inferno's head. Waspinator slumped beside the partially-assembled body, dragging a hand across his faceplates. All of that work undone… "Wazpinator never gonna be able to do thiz…" He moaned, "Stupid to think Wazpinator could; gonna be alone forever…"

"And even if can do it…" His voice dropped, a shade lower than its usually liquid tone, despondent and full of fear, "Maybe iz too late and Inferno already gone and Wazpinator will have failed again 'cauze he can't do anything right…" He curled up into a little ball, burying his face in his hands. Maybe if he weren't so tired, he would have been a little more optimistic. As it was, Waspinator felt that the situation was looking pretty bleak.

The head didn't offer any comforting, encouraging words. It just stared blankly from its perch on the rock.


	4. Part 4

The first thing Inferno did when he came back online was demand to know where Megatron was.

Waspinator stilled, fingers curling tighter around the soldering iron he held as he looked at Inferno. The ant was full of dents and patchy spots where his coloring had been burned off. One optic flickered and sparked, the glass cracked down the middle. He was favoring his right arm; a joint in the other one seemed a little loose. He looked lost and pathetic, not at all like his usual unstoppable self.

"Iz gone." Waspinator finally replied, shuffling awkwardly and fiddling with the soldering iron. He twitched his wings nervously, taking a step back even though he knew Inferno couldn't do anything to harm him.

"What do you mean, 'gone'?!" The ant leapt to his feet, hinges creaking in protest at the sudden movements. He flailed wildly, the loose parts of his left arm scraping together with a _screeeeeach._

"Maximalz left…Took dragon-bot with them." The explanation was less than likely to satisfy the subservient mech, but Waspinator couldn't lie about it. Inferno would realize sooner or later that Megatron was gone and, anyway, Waspinator wasn't very good at lying to begin with.

Inferno was silent for a moment, processing this. Glancing about him, it wasn't difficult to figure out they were still on Earth, though things kept jumping in and out of his line of vision. Something must have been wrong with his optical system, but that was the least of his concerns. No, more concerning was the fact that he was left alone with _Waspinator_ on Prehistoric Earth without his Queen.

He didn't remember exactly what had happened in that final battle, but Inferno was certain he had come out of it worse for the wear. He remembered the impact of something hitting him full force, the agony of being ripped apart, but he couldn't recall what it was that had destroyed him. His systems weren't all in working order yet, however; his internal repair system was already running in overdrive. Perhaps he would remember it more clearly once the repairs were finished. But in the meantime…

He looked back up at Waspinator. Inferno had never particularly liked the other flyer; the wasp was a coward, loopy, stupid and unable to carry out even the simplest orders. And, to top it off, he had betrayed the Queen! Inferno remembered _that_ well enough. Of all the other mechs for him to be stuck with, it had to be Waspinator!

"Why?" Inferno asked, modulating his voice so that it came out low and dangerous.

"Why what?" Waspinator cocked his head, making a questioning buzz. There were a lot of things that "why" could have meant and he wasn't sure which Inferno was referring to.

"Why did you bring me back online?" Inferno's fist slammed into the rock wall only a hairsbreadth away from the other's head and he hissed, pain searing through the weakened joint of his arm. "I would rather burn in the Pit than remain here without my Queen. I died bravely in battle, serving my colony. You should have left me that way; I am nothing without the Queen!"

Waspinator didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He hadn't considered that Inferno might not be happy to have his life back. Instead, he had selfishly rebuilt the ant, hoping to squelch his own loneliness.

"Wazpinator sorry." He finally whispered, "Didn't think…"

"Didn't think? You _never_ think…" All of the fight going out of him, Inferno sank to the ground, joints grinding, a high keening sound emitting from his vocal processor.

The smaller mech stood silently by, watching as his usually rigid, disciplined partner mourned.


	5. Part 5

"I require orders."

Waspinator looked up at the sound of Inferno's voice, making a surprised buzz. Inferno hadn't said much to him in the past day or two, he'd simply sat in a corner, brooding. It was partly Waspinator's fault that no words had been exchanged between them; once the ant was somewhat functional, he had turned his attention to reassembling Quickstrike's shell, leaving the warrior to his own devices in order to give his internal repair system time to do its work.

Inferno's repairs were far from finished, but Waspinator had completed the most necessary of them already. It would take many more solar cycles for his internal repair system to fix the rest of the damages. Or, more accurately, to fix those capable of self-repair. Waspinator hoped that would cover most of it; he had no idea what he was going to do if Inferno required more repairs than he was able to make.

"Wazpinator have no orderz for Inferno." The wasp cocked his head, peering up at Inferno from where he was seated on the ground, attempting to reassemble the scorpion legs that made up Quickstrike's left hand. The only thing he could think of was that he needed help with piecing together the fuzor, but Inferno was neither patient enough nor good enough with his hands to be of any assistance.

Inferno floundered for a moment at the quiet, solemn tone of Waspinator's voice, limbs flailing, teeth grinding. "I need orders!" He barked, his good hand waving in the air dramatically. "I cannot function properly without them."

Waspinator stood, setting aside the limp hand, and studied Inferno thoughtfully. Thinking had never been his strong suit; it took him a long time to process anything, especially important things. Inferno still looked like slag. He still wasn't up to one hundred percent and his left arm mostly still hung lifelessly at his side. Besides that, he couldn't fly, he couldn't fight and he was completely blind on the left side of his body. Until he was more whole, there wasn't much he _could_ do.

There were things he could have sent Inferno to do, were he not in such disrepair. Parts of the Axalon sometimes washed up on shore at the base of the waterfall. There were more parts of Quickstrike to gather. The fleshies had to be kept at bay. Eventually, the territory where the Darksyde had crashed and the volcano the Ark was buried under would have to be searched for salvageable parts as well. But Inferno didn't really have the motor capabilities to do any of these things and now that he was weakened, the protohumans were no longer afraid of him.

"Wazpinator have no orderz for you." The scout replied, a little more firmly this time. He knew why Inferno wanted to be instructed so badly. As a soldier ant, it was his duty to obey the Queen's every command. Waspinator, however, was far from the proverbial queen bee and, unlike Megatron, he wasn't about to order Inferno to do things he wasn't currently capable of doing.


	6. Part 6

_Systems rebooting…_

_Central processor: Online_

_Sensory systems: Online_

_Battle computer: Online_

_Optical circuits: Online_

_Memory banks: Operating at 50%_

_Logic processor…Booting…Booting…_

_ERROR! System failure. Crash imminent._

Blackness.

And then…

_Systems rebooting…_

Quickstrike came online quickly, jolting to life as if he'd been struck by lightening. He sprang to his feet, looking around wildly, vocal processor emitting a noise somewhere between a snarl and a howl of rage as he leapt towards Waspinator. His faulty systems had identified his comrade as a potential threat and he knew of only one way to deal with a threat:

You kicked its aft.

Waspinator shrieked a little and took a quick step backwards, tripping his over his own feet and landing on the cave floor with a spectacular "THUD!"

As Quickstrike prowled closer, Waspinator scooted back, trembling and buzzing a little. The fuzor had always been violent; in fact, they hadn't even ever officially reprogrammed him Predacon, just changed his activation code -- And yet he had come out of his pod itching for battle. And though he might not have been armed at the moment, Waspinator wasn't about to dismiss him as harmless.

The continued advance of Quickstrike resulted in the continued retreat of Waspinator. Naturally, though, the wasp's withdrawal was ended abruptly when he collided with the wall, leaving him trapped and without a weapon or means to escape.

"Two-head…" Waspinator began slowly, delicate wings twitching against the cold stone wall of the cavern, hands scrabbling to find anything on the cave floor that he could use as a weapon. Since he'd been working on repairs, he'd set his blaster aside, and there was no way in the Pit any of his tools would be suitable weaponry.

The fuzor was looming over him, cobra head hissing and snapping its jaws menacingly. The snake head suddenly darted forwards, clamping around the startled wasp's leg and sinking in metal fangs. Waspinator shrieked again, this time in surprised pain, kicking desperately at Quickstrike, who merely laughed madly and drove his own foot into the smaller mech's side.

"RAAUGH!" A sudden battle cry filled the chamber, bouncing off the walls and echoing, as Inferno plowed in, swinging a sharpened stick he'd stolen from the proto-humans. The makeshift weapon collided with Quickstrike's head with a sickening crack before he even realized Inferno was attacking. For a moment, his optics brightened with pain, then dimmed as he slumped forwards.

Waspinator remained frozen, staring up at Inferno, wings still trembling. The ant simply plunged his stolen spear into the ground and started dragging the inert Quickstrike off his terrified partner. He threw the fuzor aside, smirking in satisfaction as the already damaged mech landed in a sorry heap.

"Thankz…" Waspinator twittered nervously, dragging himself to his feet and dusting himself off.

Inferno ignored the gratitude, toeing the crumpled form of the fuzor, who started babbling incoherently. "I thought you were _fixing_ him." The ant glowered down at Quickstrike, as if daring him to attempt another attack, "He does not appear to be fixed at all."

Waspinator was still shaking as he limped closer, fighting the urge to curl protectively against Inferno and use the larger mech as a shield. Quickstrike appeared positively harmless for the moment, but a lifetime of abuse and misfortune had taught Waspinator to never believe appearances. "Wazpinator thought he waz fixed…Obviously malfunctioning."

"Obviously." Inferno growled a little, prodding at their fallen comrade again.


	7. Part 7

**Notes: **None of the chapters will be getting any long, Sigurdcrozov. The story is already written in completion. And thanks for the compliments, Ozy! I hope you keep enjoying the story as it plays out!

-

Over the following days, something proved to be terribly wrong with Quickstrike.

His moods fluctuated wildly, ranging anywhere from manic to timid. One moment, he would be raving and violent, the next he'd be slumped against something, rambling nonsense and completely unfocused on the world around him. Occasionally, he was rational enough to seem sane, but not very often. He was constantly slipping in and out of awareness, unpredictable and frightening.

Waspinator didn't know what to do. He tried not to let it show, but he was scared of Quickstrike. He never knew what the fuzor would do next and the unpredictability made him nervous and unwilling to get too close. And how was he supposed to finish repairs if he was afraid to even approach the glitching bot?

He hadn't always been afraid of Quickstrike. But then, Quickstrike hadn't always been quite this crazy. Off-kilter, yes, but…Not like this.

"Hey pardner…"

Waspinator glanced up from the half-destroyed computer console he'd retrieved from Tarantulas' lair. He'd scavenged there even before he'd started to reassemble Inferno, but hadn't had much time to do anything with the hopefully useful items he'd dragged back to the cave.

Now, he was attempting to fix the computer, though the possibility that it would ever be up and running again was unlikely at best. He'd been fiddling with a circuit board when Quickstrike approached, but stopped his work to look up at the fuzor, posture displaying wariness.

"What?" He queried, voice modulated enough to sound overly cautious. He was already wondering if his soldering iron would serve as a weapon in a pinch; he was never sure whether or not Quickstrike would attack. His blaster _was_ at hand -he'd been keeping it close since the day the fuzor had onlined- but Waspinator had never been known for his quick reaction time.

"Ain't'cha gonna finish those repairs, hombre?" Quickstrike canted his head to the side, looking down at the other mech and the mess of circuitry and tangled wires surrounding him. In that instant, he couldn't comprehend why the wasp was wasting his time on something he'd never be able to fix, when Quickstrike himself still needed fixing.

Waspinator was silent for a moment as he organized the computer parts and set them aside, rising clumsily to his feet and considering the mismatched mech. "…Doez two-head hurt somewhere?" He finally asked.

"Nah, it ain't that." Quickstrike shrugged a little, scorpion legs twitching and clattering together. "Just wonderin' when yer gonna repair my weapons…"

"Don't need weaponz." Waspinator replied, still cautious and guarded. He was never certain what would set the fuzor off, but he suspected this might be one such thing. And the way Quickstrike was looking at him…It surely couldn't be good. "Nothing to fight."

Quickstrike leaned closer, intimidating and fierce, red optics brightening. "There's always somethin' to fight, Waspy." He said softly, as his cobra head hissed its agreement, "Always."

The wasp didn't like the way Quickstrike was looking at him, as if he wanted to tear into him right then. It made sense, sort of. The fuzor was a fighter and he'd not fought at all since his basic repairs had been completed. There also weren't any Maximals around for him to wail on, so who else would he attack, aside from the hapless wasp? Inferno had already proved more than once that he was capable of soundly thrashing the fuzor, so Quickstrike wasn't about to take his chances there…

That only left Waspinator, the poor fool.

Quickstrike took another step closer, invading Waspinator's personal space and setting off alarms in several of the wasp's systems. His nerves were already frayed; the last few days had been tense and trying. Their close proximity was just making things worse and Waspinator fidgeted, twitching and buzzing and pressing himself up against the wall.

Quickstrike's hand -the one comprised of scorpion legs- shot out, the slender legs making up his fingers headed for Waspinator's throat. Already panicky and nervous, Waspinator scrabbled for his blaster, ducking out of the way and snatching up the weapon.

A sudden _ptew!_ sound caused Quickstrike to whip around, just in time to see the insect's blast as it hit him squarely in the face.


	8. Part 8

**Notes:** Starfire201, it's taking me a long time to post the parts, simply because I'm lazy. I apologize for that.

-

"Inferno cannot come."

"Why?" Inferno demanded, optics blazing with self-righteous fury at the continued orders to stay behind and remain idle.

As the sun crept over the horizon that morning, Waspinator had announced that he was going back to the site of their previous base to scavenge for parts they might have been able to make use of.

He didn't expect to find anything salvageable amid the Darksyde's wreckage, but Waspinator didn't think it would hurt to look and he had told Inferno and Quickstrike as much as he made certain his weapons were fully charged and primed, just in case.

Inferno demanded to accompany him, insisting he wanted to be useful. But with his flight systems out of order and the other minor malfunctions that hadn't been repaired yet, the wasp wasn't sure how much of a help he would be. In the end, he told Inferno no, insisting he stay behind to look after Quickstrike, who was still barely functional himself on his off days.

This, naturally, dissolved into an argument that ended in a shouting match; Inferno had the habit of getting progressively louder and more demanding as he got more agitated.

"'Cauze some one need to look after Two-head while Wazpinator-" The wasp began, only to be cut off by an indignant yelp from said fuzor.

"Wait just a cotton pickin' minute, Waspy!" In a rare moment of lucidity, Quickstrike struggled to his feet, shaking a fist threateningly in the shorter mech's face, "I ain't in need of no keeper! I can slaggin' well look after myself!"

Inferno, for a moment, looked torn between sneering at the ludicrous suggestion that his vital role in all this was that of baby-sitter and jumping in to defend Waspinator from Quickstrike. He brushed _that _thought aside quickly, however; facing the "threat" of Quickstrike, Waspinator would certainly be able to hold his own. _This time _Quickstrike wouldn't catch Waspinator off guard. Instead, he simply pushed the fuzor out of the way and loomed over the wasp.

"It is not my duty to remain here and play nursemaid to a drone." He snarled, teeth grinding in agitation.

It was hard to find Inferno as intimidating as he once had. Waspinator looked up at him, taking in the still-cracked optic, the scuffed metal, the charred and blistered paint…He was still a mess and nowhere near as threatening as he liked to think. "Iz order, Inferno!" He stated firmly.

"It is NOT an order!" Inferno roared, "It is an excuse for one, and a poor one at that!"

For a moment, Waspinator was ready to relent, just for the sake of peace. Quickstrike was still raving about how he could look after himself and Inferno looked positively homicidal. But no…If he backed down now, neither of them would ever listen to him.

Inferno started as Waspinator lifted his blaster, pointing it between the two of them. "Both of you…Mute it!" He buzzed angrily, training the weapon on the more dangerous of the two - Inferno. "Wazpinator say Inferno stay here!" He stomped a foot, clearly annoyed. "Would Inferno _really_ compromizze safety of colony by disobeying orderz?" As a social insect, Waspinator was somewhat able to understand Inferno's way of thinking, and this knowledge seemed to be an effective weapon in controlling the ant. "Two-head needz looking after and iz Inferno's _duty_ to look after!"

"I do not!" Quickstrike howled, sounding very much like a whiney, spoiled sparkling.

Inferno ignored the angry fuzor, considering what Waspinator had said. On one hand, Waspinator had a point…He was a soldier; a worker, and therefore, it _was_ his duty. It would go against his nature to disobey the order and it would be a travesty for him to fail in his responsibility to defend the Colony. But on the other…Waspinator was _not_ the Queen and orders from him could hardly be considered real orders.

…Could they?

"Fine." He snarled decisively. "I will stay and look after the fuzor." Waspinator might not have been the Queen, but he had suddenly become key in the functionality of the Colony. He was the only one giving orders and Inferno was sorely in need of some responsibility. Besides, it was hardly his place to question…It was his place to obey.

"Good." Waspinator nodded his approval.

Inferno's only reply was a stiff, jerky salute.


	9. Part 9

**Notes:** Thanks for the new reviews and favs, guys. It's nice to know people are still enjoying this story~

**Lourdes1897: **Your favorites are my ship…Just don't ask me to explain it!

-

Waspinator had forgotten what it was like so close to the volcano. His systems were configured to cycle cleaner air. The climate in the area where the protohumans dwelled was much more temperate and now he had to adjust his internal cooling system so he wouldn't overheat. The overpowering odor of sulfur and brimstone hung heavy in the air, assaulting his olfactory sensors and processing as vile.

As he picked his way through the debris, something below him rumbled ominously and the ground trembled. Always clumsy, Waspinator had to brace himself against the wall for a moment, trying to keep and maintain his balance on the vibrating ground.

Everything was too hot; too stifling, and -slaggit!- this was an active volcano! How had they existed in such close proximity to it for so long?

There wasn't much left of the Darksyde; Tigerhawk had certainly done his best to assure that nothing was salvageable. Waspinator thought it was a shame. She had been a beautiful ship and he had loved piloting her. No one had ever paid much attention to him then; just let him do what he wanted with the ship, for the most part.

It seemed that the little bug's supposition was true; there really wasn't anything worth salvaging. Most of the things that would have been useful -CR tank parts, weapons, computer components- had been reduced to rubble, rendering them useless.

Deciding that the whole expedition had been a waste of time, Waspinator turned to leave, in the process stumbling over something that squeaked loudly when he trod on it, the sound echoing through the silent chamber and startling him even more. He flailed his stocky limbs for a moment, trying to keep his balance. Naturally, gravity won the battle and the unfortunate wasp wound up in a heap on the ground.

He lay there for a moment, stunned, then pushed himself up, twisting to see what it was he'd tripped on. For a moment, he stared in disbelief. Of _course_ the only thing aboard the Darksyde that hadn't been completely destroyed was Megatron's rubber duck.

Waspinator stood, dusting himself off and bending to retrieve the offensive bath toy. A small sound that his central processor identified as metal hitting rock came from somewhere behind him and he froze. Until then, the cavern had been silent, save for the occasional rumble of the volcano.

For a moment, Waspinator remained still, suddenly aware of the eerie feeling of being watched. That was impossible, though; there was no one else anywhere near him. He had left Inferno and Quickstrike behind and his internal temperature gauge was giving a reading far too high for organic life to survive.

Glancing about to make sure he wasn't being watched, the scout scooped up the rubber duck. Without really thinking about it, he decided to dispose of this last remnant of Megatron's regime, swinging his arm back to pitch it into the bubbling flow of lava peeking out of a crack in the cavern floor.

The rumbling of the volcano was drowned out by the sound of Waspinator's startled scream when a clawed hand grabbed his wrist from behind.


	10. Part 10

**Notes:** I couldn't resist :3 Lame explanation is lame, but, well, we're not dealing with the smartest of bots here.

-

It had been a long time.

Many, _many_ solar cycles, in fact. But you can never really forget the things you were once attached to, no matter how long you've been away from those things.

Though he was paralyzed with fear as the hand clutching his arm turned him, and the body attached to that hand hardly looked familiar at all, Waspinator knew the identity of his captor the second their gaze caught.

He felt his systems cool as the initial shock wore off and disbelief set in.

He was looking at a ghost.

Waspinator struggled to make his vocal processor work, trying to force out sounds before his systems started running properly again. He'd received quite the shock -- It wasn't every day you had a face-to-face encounter with your dead friend. "You died…" He finally managed, the words squeaking out on a little buzz.

"And yet…Here I am." Terrorsaur grinned, the expression full of smug self-importance, as if he was pleased with himself for somehow managing to cheat death. He was arrogant enough to believe this to be true, though none of the other Predacons had died when falling into lava either.

"Megatron said Terrorsaur offlined." Waspinator didn't make a move to free himself from the pteranodon's grip; he was too busy looking over the unfamiliar form of his partner. Terrorsaur had changed; nothing about him was the same. His coloring, his physical form…All wrong. He had always been aesthetically pleasing, but now the bright, eye-catching red and silver was replaced with dusky purple and chrome, some details in a mossy green, some a darker red. He looked much more sinister; more frightening…Not at all like himself.

Waspinator had never really liked what the transmetalization process had done to any of them.

"Megatron said a lot of things." Terrorsaur scoffed, letting go of his companion's wrist, "Most of them weren't true, if you recall. Whatever hit us knocked me and Scorponok into the lava, but it didn't _kill_ me. I don't know about Scorponok," The flyer shrugged elegantly, "But I was very aware of the fact that I was still online and trapped."

Waspinator looked up at him silently. This should have been a joyous moment, but what he was experiencing was more akin to sheer devastation as the world as he knew it fell to pieces. He had long ago mourned for his missing partner. Though he never knew exactly what had happened to him, the wasp had given up hope that his friend would return with each passing day. When Megatron said he was dead, Waspinator had believed it, and he had moved on, putting the past behind him and accepting that the closest thing to a real friend he had ever had was gone.

Except for the part where Terrorsaur was standing in front of him, all shine and advanced technology, claws and self-important grins.

"If Terrorsaur waz trapped…" Waspinator began slowly, almost unconsciously reaching up to touch the tip of one angular purple wing, "How did he get out?"

Another shrug indicated that Waspinator should remove his wandering hand. Terrorsaur glanced about the chamber created by the rock outcroppings and lava as if the walls would give him an answer. "Some kind of seismic action, I guess…Things shifted when the volcano became more active and I was able to drag myself out."

"What about scorpion-bot?" Waspinator followed Terrorsaur's gaze, glancing over at the pools of lava. He'd always felt sort of off-put by Scorponok's presence; the scorpion had been given a lot of tasks he would have preferred to be assigned. They hadn't been friends -they hadn't been enemies either- but the wasp would have been happy enough adding him to their little team.

"As far as I know, he's still in there somewhere." Terrorsaur didn't seem too concerned about their former teammate, "He might be offline; I don't know." He may have looked different, but he was still himself and thusly still self-centered. "What happened to the Darksyde? Don't tell me you actually got her mobile again; she was slagged pretty bad."

There was another moment of silence as Waspinator contemplated how to explain everything to his companion. A lot had happened since that quantum surge knocked the pteranodon into the lava pool and it would take a lot to explain. "Come with Wazpinator." He finally said, "Will explain on the way…"


	11. Part 11

**Notes: **This and the following three parts or so were my favorites to write of this whole series.

-

Arriving at the cave Waspinator had been using as his base of operations, Terrorsaur looked over the rag-tag group with interest, taking them all in. Inferno looked like he'd seen better days. One of his optics was cracked and dim and it appeared that his propulsion systems weren't in working order, likely rendering it impossible for him to fly. Terrorsaur didn't know the other mech, who seemed to be composed of mismatched parts. He wondered for a moment if Waspinator, being himself, had put the unfortunate creature back together wrong. The strange-looking Transformer seemed to be aware of his surroundings, though how much so was up for debate. He was in much worse shape than Inferno and it looked like his weapons weren't activated, though whether this was by design or by accident, the pteranodon wasn't sure.

He glanced at Waspinator, who was slumped a little and covered in volcanic ash and dirt, but still completely intact and alert. Terrorsaur took a moment to appreciate the irony of the fact that his former partner was the most whole out of the three of them.

Then he looked down at his hands, now sleek and metallic purple. He studied his clawed fingers, weighing his options. He could easily overthrow the three of them, if he wanted to. Whatever had happened to him when he fell in the lava apparently hadn't happened to either of the insects; they still looked the same. And the other looked too out of it to be much of a threat. Inferno was glancing at Waspinator as if awaiting instructions; it seemed the green mech had assumed the role of leader. He _had_ been working hard, this much was obvious. But did that make him their leader? He was hardly capable of taking care of himself!

"I'm the most powerful one here." Terrorsaur mused, a smug grin crossing his face. Inferno growled at him threateningly, and he just snorted, dismissing any hint of danger as too unimportant for him to concern himself with it. "I could-"

He didn't get to finish the sentence because the barrel of Waspinator's striped blaster was suddenly aimed squarely at his face.

The pteranodon took a step back, hands raising defensively. "What the slag, Waspy?!" He wasn't afraid of the overgrown bug; the gesture was purely reflexive. No, more than anything, he was annoyed.

"We doing thingz _my_ way." The hand holding the weapon didn't lower. Behind Waspinator, Inferno sprang to his feet, ready to defend if need be. "Wazpinator put Inferno and Two-head back together. Wazpinator fixing thingz; working hard. Didn't bring Terrorsaur back here so he could take over. Not going to let you ruin thingz."

Inferno wasn't much of a threat. Terrorsaur didn't think so, at least. He simply stepped out of the sub-commander's line of vision, making sure to stay on his blind side. The ant looked disoriented for a moment, and Terrorsaur smirked, turning his attention back to the smaller mech, who's weapon was still trained on him.

"You're not going to shoot me, Waspinator." He scoffed, taking a step closer and reaching for the blaster, "So just gimme that thing." It usually wasn't that difficult to manipulate Waspinator; he wasn't that bright. "And even if you _were_ going to shoot me, it wouldn't do much good. My new body can handle a lot of damage." He moved to grab the weapon as a show of just how little of a threat he considered the bug to be.

Waspinator tensed, taking a step back to keep the distance between him and the now-transmetal pteranodon. He didn't _want_ to shoot his friend, but he'd been trying his best to keep things together and he wasn't going to let Terrorsaur take that away from him.

Terrorsaur advanced, closing the distance again. "Give me the blaster, Waspinator. I know you're not going to shoot me. You know you're not going to shoot me. Inferno knows it and I'm sure that sorry heap knows it as well. So just give it up now."

It was the way he said it that got to the smaller mech. The pteranodon had always been arrogant, but that condescension was usually directed elsewhere. Now, having it directed at him, it _hurt._ Terrorsaur, once some one _so_ familiar, had become some one he didn't even know any more.

Waspinator fired.


	12. Part 12

Waspinator's shot wasn't enough to even stun Terrorsaur, but it did surprise him so much that he stumbled back, nearly losing his footing.

Though the blast didn't hurt him, the shock of his friend actually Ishooting/I him left him unprepared for the impact of Inferno's fist connecting with his face. The blow threw him backwards to the ground and he landed on his aft, skidding through the dirt. It seemed that despite his injuries, Inferno was just as unstoppable as always.

Behind them, Quickstrike -who had been roused to full consciousness by the sound of Terrorsaur crashing to the ground- started cheering, hooting something about Inferno "kickin' aft." Terrorsaur ignored him, leaping to his feet and launching himself at the ant.

Inferno shrieked a battle cry, charging forwards and slamming into the transmetal. He didn't care how much more powerful than him Terrorsaur was, or how much his damages were hindering his ability to fight. All that mattered was that the pteranodon was acting as a threat to the little bit of stability left in Inferno's world and he wasn't going to let anything destroy that.

Terrorsaur squawked indignantly as Inferno crashed head-first into him, grabbing the soldier by his damaged arm and twisting. Inferno shrieked again, this time in anger and pain, swinging his other arm around and flailing wildly. He wanted badly to end the other flyer, but the searing pain shooting up his arm clouded his judgment, impeding his ability to fight as he usually would.

Inferno was dimly aware of Waspinator somewhere to his left, buzzing frantically and ordering him to stop; to stand down. The command was reaching his audio receptors, but not fully processing through the haze of agony and rage. He wanted the other mech Igone/I and he would either stop him or offline trying.

The ant had never liked Terrorsaur; he hated the way the pteranodon was always plotting to overthrow the Queen. If there was one thing Inferno couldn't stand, it was a traitor and Terrorsaur had always been as traitorous as they come. Before, Inferno hadn't been allowed to decimate the slaggin' pterosaur because the Queen had needed troops, but now there was nothing to stop him.

Except, of course, his own limitations.

It was only a matter of seconds before the ant found himself on the ground, Terrorsaur's foot crushing his chest plate, one of the transmetal's strange new blade-like purple weapons pointed directly at his face. He growled savagely, not at all concerned with the fact that the pteranodon could easily break him with one movement.

Terrorsaur would have killed him, too, were it not for Waspinator grabbing his arm, and trying valiantly to tug him away. For all of the wasp's pulling, Terrorsaur didn't budge, but he did glance over at his former partner, ready to tell him to slag off or he'd be next.

Waspinator's face had never been particularly expressive, but Terrorsaur had known him long enough to easily decipher his body language. The wasp was staring up at him, wings fluttering nervously, posture tense. Even though he didn't look like he planned on backing down, Terrorsaur could tell that he knew he was defeated. They both knew that there was no way Waspinator could ever take him down, should he attack Inferno.

But still…he seemed bound and determined to try, which left Terrorsaur feeling a little unsettled, though he couldn't quite figure out why.

Inferno suddenly started flailing again, trying to free himself and reminding Terrorsaur that he had a job to finish. The ant had been a thorn in his side since the moment he came online and he would enjoy destroying him immensely.

His mouth twisted up into a sadistic grin, razor sharp teeth glinting, and he ground his foot down harder, the grin widening at the feel of metal giving way beneath his foot. "How does it feel to be on the receiving end of the punishment, _sub-commander_?" He questioned, repositioning his blade to show that he intended to sever the ant's head from his body. Oh yes, he would relish putting Inferno in his place.

"Stop." It wasn't Inferno who spoke -of course he would never plead for his life- but rather Waspinator, who's voice was quiet and defeated, but still somehow commanded the pteranodon's attention. He let go of Terrorsaur's arm, taking a step back and holstering his blaster. "You win." The words came out perfectly clear, flawlessly enunciated, as if to show how serious Waspinator was.

Terrorsaur just looked at him for a moment, something about this one split second reminding him of what he was aware of somewhere in the back of his processor -- How things used to be; when he had always stuck up for Waspinator and made sure he was okay. That unsettling feeling seeped through his systems again, emanating from somewhere in his core.

Suddenly, he didn't feel very victorious.


	13. Part 13

**Notes:** Short part; I apologize. But it is still somewhat crucial to the plot.

-

"Why did you bring him here?"

Waspinator hated when Inferno felt he had the right to know something. The ant was just so slaggin' demanding! It made the smaller bug twitchy and nervous; he never seemed to have a satisfactory answer for Inferno. And if the answer wasn't good enough…He would just demand more.

"Iz…_waz_ Wazpinator'z friend." Waspinator wasn't really surprised that Inferno had tracked him down; he wasn't really hiding. He'd simply wandered off after Terrorsaur had disappeared to sulk, needing space and time to think.

Inferno cocked his head, looking down at the little mech curiously. Waspinator was sitting on a rock, legs drawn up to his chest, wings drooping. He looked positively pathetic - Which was all wrong! The Queen…no, _leader,_ was never supposed to look so weak and ineffective. - and it made Inferno want to yell at him or hit him or do _something_ that would snap him out of this funk.

Instead, he grunted a little, plopping down beside the other bug and manipulating his loose limbs into a sitting position, creaking as he got comfortable. Of course, for Inferno, "comfortable" meant sitting ramrod straight and at attention, but the fact that he was sitting at all was impressive.

"Terrorsaur changed." Waspinator offered a moment later, speaking out loud to himself more than to Inferno.

"No he hasn't!" Inferno snapped, good arm flailing a little, "That treacherous lizard is attempting to overthrow you, just like he did the Royalty. He is no different than before!"

"Iz different!" Waspinator jumped up, trying his best to get in Inferno's face and appear in control -- a task which was difficult, given the fact that Waspinator was, well, himself. "Terrorsaur _never_ believed in dragon-bot, but…uzed to care about Wazpinator."

Inferno scowled. "He never cared about you!" He barked, "He cares for nothing but power he doesn't deserve and if you are foolish enough to trust him, he will take everything you've worked to gain." The ant was clearly agitated, teeth grinding together, hands clenching and unclenching. "Including my respect."

Waspinator sputtered for a moment, vocal processor emitting a series of clicks and buzzes. Inferno folded his arms, waiting a moment before delivering the final line of his little speech.

"And I do not believe you are that stupid."


	14. Part 14

**Notes:** This was one of my favorite parts to write X3

One thing Terrorsaur had noticed almost immediately after his arrival at the cave-base was how Quickstrike seemed to have it out for Waspinator.

Since the fuzor had come online around the time Terrorsaur had "died," they had never met before, but it wouldn't have taken a genius to see how dangerous and unstable Quickstrike was. It also wasn't very hard to tell that Waspinator was utterly terrified of him, though he did his best to pretend otherwise.

Terrorsaur knew, though. He and Waspinator had worked together for a long time and he could easily see the telltale signs of fear that overtook the wasp's small, bulky frame whenever Quickstrike got too close. It was the way he would tense…Or how his posture became more rigid. The way his fingers shook as he made repairs. Or, most obvious of all, the way he wouldn't even look Quickstrike in the optic, as if he was afraid the still-damaged mech could see into his very spark.

It made sense; Waspinator wasn't particularly adept at protecting himself. He was an easy target, and every one had known it, Predacon and Maximal alike.

It made sense…But that didn't mean Terrorsaur had to like it.

And that was why he'd ambushed Quickstrike one evening, as twilight was settling over the valley and the fuzor's optical sensors would fail to function properly. His night vision, Terrorsaur knew, hadn't been repaired yet and he had difficulties seeing in the dark. Not that the advantage hadn't been his to begin with; Terrorsaur was state-of-the-art and Quickstrike was still little more than a scrapheap.

"Think you're the big mech around here, don't you?" He'd been leaning against a tree trunk, his casual stance an indication that he was in complete control of the situation. A twisted grin crossed his face when Quickstrike jumped at the sound of his voice. It seemed the fuzor hadn't realized he was there.

"If the plating fits, wear it." Quickstrike was quick to regain his composure, shoulders squaring, optics narrowing as he looked over Terrorsaur. He didn't like this newcomer much; he hated the pteranodon's I'm-better-than-you attitude. It didn't suit most mechs and it certainly didn't suit this one.

"All that it proves," Terrorsaur stepped away from the tree, stride cocky, "Is that you're a coward."

At that, Quickstrike tensed up, glare threatening to burn through the transmetal's chrome plating. "Who you callin' yellah, ya tinhorn?" He snarled in a fit of indignant outrage, just as Terrorsaur had anticipated. He'd not known Quickstrike that long, but was already finding him incredibly predictable.

"You, _pardner_." Terrorsaur sneered, "What do you think you're proving by constantly beating on the weakest mech here?" Waspinator was still dumb about most things. He was still slow and whiney and not terribly ambitious. But he was still Terrorsaur's friend _and_ partner, as far as Terrorsaur was concerned, at least. He would still protect the wasp and wasn't about to let Quickstrike keep terrorizing him.

"I don't see you ever trying to take on Inferno." He continued, totally unfazed by the death glare leveled on him, "Or me. Is it because you know we're stronger than you, or is it because you enjoy picking on the weak?" He canted his head to the side, giving the fuzor a long, hard look, clawed fingers flexing at his sides.

"I could kick your aft, flyboy." Quickstrike had started pacing, circling warily around Terrorsaur as if waiting for him to attack. "I could take you down even without my weapons workin' right."

Terrorsaur really had no idea what kind of fighter the fuzor was, just that he was brutal. Waspinator had said as much on more than one occasion, citing that as the sole reason he was reluctant to repair the rest of Quickstrike's damages. That bit of information, however, was rather unimportant, given their size difference and the fact that Terrorsaur was in perfect working order.

When Quickstrike rushed at him, cobra head snapping its powerful jaws, Terrorsaur was ready. He dodged the first blow and the second was only glancing, not even enough to hurt. He didn't bother to draw a blade, instead choosing to rake his claws across Quickstrike's chest and reveling in the feel of metal tearing beneath his fingers. Quickstrike howled and swung at him, cobra head clamping down on his forearm.

If he was in any pain, Terrorsaur didn't let it show. Quickstrike wasn't even certain how effective the bite would be; with his systems out of whack, he had no way of knowing how much cybervenom was making it out of the snake head's fangs. In the end, it didn't matter much anyway, because the pteranodon kicked him, pushing him away, and yanked his arm out of the steel grip.

There was still no need for weapons. If he was going to do this, Terrorsaur was going to make it as humiliating as possible. As Quickstrike stumbled back, Terrorsaur kicked him again, clawed foot striking directly in the midsection and sending him crashing to the ground. It wasn't so different from when he'd duked it out with Inferno and Quickstrike soon found himself flat on his back, foot grinding into his stomach.

"Who's kicking who's aft now, fuzor?" This time, there wasn't the usual smug satisfaction, just cold efficiency. Terrorsaur bent a little to grab Quickstrike's arm, wrenching it up and tearing the limb from his body in a shower of sparks. The cobra head flopped lifelessly in his claws and Quickstrike hissed in pain, writhing beneath the foot still pining him to the ground.

He said nothing, however, just glared hatefully up at Terrorsaur, who simply tossed the arm over his shoulder into the darkness. He loomed over Quickstrike, grinning through the night. "If you ever lay so much as one skinny little leg on Waspinator again," His bright optics narrowed menacingly, "I'll rip off more than just your arm."


	15. Part 15

"We shouldn't be worrying about these scrap-heaps, Waspy. We should be figuring out how to get off this dust ball."

It _had_ been a moment of peaceful quiet until Terrorsaur opened his slaggin' big mouth and ruined it. Waspinator looked up at him with a glare, buzzing in annoyance. "Inferno and two-head Wazpinator'z friendz." He reminded the transmetal, "Not leaving them here in piecez."

"I'm your friend." Terrorsaur snapped, arms folding across his chest plate, "Your best friend." That should have been enough; he'd always been talented in the art of making Waspinator feel guilty and he felt no shame in abusing this skill, especially if it meant getting something he wanted.

"Izn't going to work." Waspinator's gaze lowered again as he focused on the bolt he'd been tightening.

Terrorsaur stared at him stupidly, mouth gaping open in disbelief. In the past, Waspinator had always gone along with whatever he suggested, no questions asked. He wasn't the brightest and it had been rather easy to manipulate him.

"Terrorsaur not need Wazzpinator to leave." The wasp continued matter-of-factly, still fixated on what he was doing, "So leave."

"I can't just leave you here…"

"Yez," The reply was as calm as if the overgrown bug was talking about the weather, "You can."

"You need me!" Terrorsaur scowled, "Or did you forget who it was that dragged your sorry aft back to base every time you got yourself blown up?"

There was silence for a moment as Waspinator finished tightening the bolt. Then, carefully, he set aside his things and looked up at Terrorsaur. "Wazpinator put himself together after you gone." He said slowly, "Not need Terrorsaur. But Inferno and two-head need Wazpinator. Have to stay."

"You don't owe them anything, you know."

"Don't owe you anything, either." Once upon a time, Terrorsaur and Waspinator had been the best of friends and Waspinator would have argued that he owed Terrorsaur everything. Who else _had_ put him back together or listened to him or told him not to believe things other bots said about him? No one; just Terrorsaur. Inferno was wrong; the pteranodon _had_ changed. He had become what others believed he was.

"What is wrong with you?" Terrorsaur gave him an incredulous look, clearly disbelieving of what he was hearing. "Do you think they're grateful for what you did? Do you think they even care? Why the slag are you wasting your time on this when we could be leaving now?"

"Iz not wazte of time!"

"Quickstrike wants to hurt you!" The transmetal screeched, fists clenching. Waspinator might have been obnoxious and strange and a really poor soldier, but he had never failed to make Terrorsaur's life interesting. They _had_ had good times together, and who had taken the time to look after Waspinator and indulge his whims after he'd fallen in the lava? He doubted any one had; the rest of them could barely stand the insect on a good day. No matter how much he denied it, Terrorsaur knew that Waspinator still needed him. "Why are you helping him?"

Waspinator fell quiet at that, all of the fight going out of him. It was true. Quickstrike wasn't his friend; not any more. Something vital inside of him had been damaged and he wasn't totally himself and Waspinator, failure that he was, couldn't even fix it! "Need to." He finally said, voice wavering uncertainly.

"Why?" Terrorsaur's arms folded across his chest and he looked crossly down at his companion, trying to make sense of this whole situation.

"'Cauze Wazpinator put him back together wrong…Need to try to make it right." Waspinator fidgeted, trying to explain. There had been a time in their lives that Terrorsaur had been able to understand his broken, fragmented speech without any kind of problems; he hoped that would still be the case. He didn't really know how to explain, but he knew why he felt he had to do it. "My responsibility…Hafta finish what Wazpinator start. Not a quitter." He twiddled his thumbs, squirming and flitting his wings, "But…But could uzze Terrorsaur'z help."

There was a pregnant pause as the two just looked at one another. Waspinator buzzed a little, still twitching, head cocked. Terrorsaur flexed a hand idly, considering what his partner was suggesting. "You think we should work together." He translated, musing over the possibilities of what they could do if all the tension between them dissipated.

"Well…Why not?" Waspinator cocked his head, buzzing and shuffling awkwardly, "Were partnerz before…Why not now too?" The wasp was desperate to have the old Terrorsaur back; sure, his friend had returned, but he wasn't himself any more. He was cold and cruel and calculating, much more cynical than he had ever been before. He was hardly the friend Waspinator remembered losing.

"All right, why not?" A toothy grin crossed Terrorsaur's face. This was perfect; if things went back to the way they had been before, he'd easily be able to assume control off this ragtag group of glitches. All it would take was a little careful guidance and things would play out however he wanted them to.

Waspinator brightened, wings lifting in a display of satisfaction that his proposal was well received. He knew that Terrorsaur would try to take advantage of him and his inability to process quickly, but at that moment, he didn't care.


	16. Part 16

**Notes:** The story will be wrapped up in a few more parts. I hope every one is still enjoying!

**MorriganFearn: **Thanks for the great review! I love when people say more than just "OMG RITE MOAR" or something equally unhelpful. I like to know what people like about a story, so your review made my day!

* * *

"Why are you threatening Quickstrike?"

Of all the things Terrorsaur expected Inferno to say to him, this wasn't one of them. It had been surprising enough when the ant had marched over to him, demanding an audience with the transmetal. Terrorsaur had folded his arms, glaring at him expectantly, and waited.

When those words tumbled out of Inferno's mouth, the pteranodon was a little taken aback.

"He wants to hurt Waspinator." Terrorsaur pointed out, once he'd recovered from his surprise over the question, "Or haven't you noticed?"

Inferno waved a hand dismissively, the gesture looking a little more fluid and human than most of his usual movements. "Waspinator can handle it without you making threats."

"No he can't!" Terrorsaur snapped, arms dropping, hands balling into fists at his side, "He's scared of the crazy fragger and, anyway, you should know that he can't defend himself worth slag!"

"He is more capable than you believe." Inferno merely shrugged, "Unlike you, _he's_ never gotten himself killed." A sneer crossed his face, spiky teeth glinting in the afternoon sunlight, "He may not be the Queen, but he _is_ acting as leader here and it is not your place to treat him like a sparkling, it is your place to obey."

Terrorsaur stared stupidly at his companion for a moment, trying to make sense of Inferno's thought patterns. The ant just stood there woodenly, waiting for him to respond, and Terrorsaur shook his head a little. He had never understood Inferno or his blind loyalty; how could any one live without making choices for themself? As Predacons, the only real freedom they had was that of thought…And Inferno didn't even acknowledge that he could think for himself.

"Waspinator's my partner." Terrorsaur frowned at him, "Not my boss. So I don't plan on letting him boss me around any time soon. He isn't very good at it anyway, and that's exactly why Quickstrike goes around trying to slag him."

"You are being illogical." Inferno mirrored the frown, otherwise remaining just as frozen in place as before, "Why would Quickstrike attack him because he is a poor leader? He is still the leader and therefore to be obeyed." He tipped his head slightly, peering intently at the pteranodon.

"Because he knows he can." The transmetal huffed, frown intensifying to a scowl, "He knows Waspinator is weak and ineffective, so he knows he can bully him. If Waspinator doesn't show he's in control, he won't _be_ in control. Quickstrike knows this and is using it to his advantage."

The ant mulled over that for a minute, seemingly considering each word. "Waspinator is not very good at being in control." It was an easy admission to make; Inferno had never learned how to lie, "He is an ineffective leader and a coward. That is why Quickstrike is harassing him. However, if he cannot defend himself, he does not deserve to be in charge. A weak soldier only cripples the Colony."

Terrorsaur sighed dramatically; that was the exact opposite result of what he wanted. "Let's look at it this way, bug-face…Would you rather have Quickstrike bossing you around? Or _me_? Because those are your other choices…"

There was another moment of silence as Inferno turned that over in his processor. He hated Terrorsaur with a passion and shuddered to think of what kind of choices Quickstrike would make regarding their future. "Point taken." He finally stated, "I will do my best to prevent Quickstrike from harming him."

"That's all I ask, Inferno." A toothy grin crossed the pterosaur's face. That was more than enough to keep the subservient ant under his thumb.


	17. Part 17

**Notes:** This is the last "chapter" of this story. The next part will be a small epilogue.

Thanks for the helpful reviews, guys. I really do appreciate it. Much love to those of you who enjoy my Inferno; I think he's actually quite intelligent under his glitches.

* * *

"We're probably going to offline here."

Waspinator sat up a little, cocking his head and peering through the darkness at Terrorsaur curiously. The statement had come unprovoked, drifting through the warm night air and hanging there heavily like a hazy storm cloud. He never understood why Terrorsaur felt the need to utterly ruin perfectly peaceful moments like this; they had just been relaxing and enjoying the night until the other spoke.

"Probably." Waspinator shrugged inelegantly, flopping back into the grass with a little buzz. He took a moment to rearrange himself, making sure his delicate wings were folded and tucked neatly beneath the bulk of his frame. Even without a threat looming over them daily, he was still paranoid about his wings getting damaged.

There was an awkward silence for a moment, then Terrorsaur spoke again. "…Doesn't that bother you?"

"Nope." Another shrug and Waspinator tucked his hands behind his head, gazing up at the twinkling stars and the single moon. Sometimes, he still couldn't believe that the other moon hadn't really been a moon at all. All of that felt so far away, like it had happened years ago, to some one else.

"Why not?"

"'Cauze Wazpinator have no regretz about offlining here." The soft, buzzing tones of Waspinator's voice were lazy, almost laced with sleep. It was no wonder; it was late and he had hardly had a moment to recharge in the past weeks. "Would rather die here, with friendz, than fighting in war Wazpinator doezn't believe in, for some one who don't care. No regretz, no worriez."

He punctuated the statement with a low pitched hum, rolling over on his side and tucking an arm beneath his head. It was almost as if what he was saying was no big deal and -to him- it probably wasn't.

But to Terrorsaur, it spoke volumes, all of a simple life ruled by basic emotions. Waspinator was sometimes difficult to read and complex in his simplicity, but the pteranodon had always been easily able to figure him out. Waspinator still truly believed they were all friends and that things would therefore work out. He Iwanted/I to believe it. And he clearly still trusted Terrorsaur, if his posture and willingness to let his guard down were any indication.

The transmetal didn't know what to think about it. He had changed. Inferno was adapting out of necessity. And Quickstrike, apparently, had changed as well. But Waspinator was still Waspinator, still flighty and nervous and so innocently trusting.

At the thought of taking advantage of that trust, that now familiar disconcerted feeling washed over Terrorsaur's being, making a comfortable home for itself deep in his spark. He frowned into the darkness, considering what it might have meant and coming up with nothing.

Waspinator slept on as the moon sank lower in the sky and night crept slowly towards morning, getting some much needed recharge.

Terrorsaur sat awake for a long time, watching protectively over his partner and trying to rid himself of the guilty feeling that he didn't even understand.


	18. Part 18

**Notes:** Welcome to the end of the story.

Some stories have happy endings. Some stories have surprise endings. Some stories have sad endings. This story just has an ending.

* * *

Not much had changed.

When he looked at the other Predacons, Waspinator knew everything was exactly the same. They were still stranded on Earth. Quickstrike was still broken and crazy. Inferno was still pining over the loss of his Queen. And Terrorsaur…was still trying to manipulate him into doing things his way. Waspinator doubted that would ever change.

But he…Waspinator felt _different_. It was as if -for once- life around him had remained static, while he had done all the changing. Usually, the little bug was left in the dust while those around him bettered themselves, through upgrades or promotions or cunning schemes. He had always been passed by without a second glance and he had always known his place; known that nothing would change.

Well, nothing had, in the end. Everything had stayed the same…But at the same time, everything was different.

Even though Quickstrike and Inferno were still damaged and dysfunctional…Even though his best friend was still the proverbial thorn in his side…Even though they were trapped in a meaningless existence on a dust ball planet that they would never escape…

He had done it. He had proved to himself that he _could_ do it. He had put Inferno and Quickstrike back together and they were functional, if only just. And though he still grumbled under his breath about burning and the Royalty, Inferno listened to his orders and did as he was asked. He suspected that Terrorsaur was beginning to grudgingly respect him and Waspinator hoped that he was beginning to appear less incompetent and more like what he wished to be.

Waspinator hadn't made everything better, but he hadn't failed, either. Things could always change in their favor.

After all, tomorrow was another day.

* * *

**End Notes: **This story was originally completed as of June fifth, 2009. I intended it to end this way, with a very open "conclusion." I don't plan on ever picking it up and continuing it, as these characters never seemed destined for the typical happy ending.

The title of this story comes from the Fair to Midland song "Walls of Jericho," which I found very fitting for the circumstances of the story.


End file.
